I bought a can of Lysol air freshener this morning, and I am spraying it in the kitchen every fifteen minutes, trying, somewhat more figuratively than literally, to kill the flies with kindness. Or at least, Fresh Linen scent.
I threw out the dish rack and drainboard, the soap dispenser and sponge holder, the sink rack-thing. New ones await in a nice clean bag in the living room.
In fact, I had a very nice morning, because I had a long list of things to do and I got them all done by about noon, including getting a haircut that I like very much (think along cosmic and LA lines) and two decaf skim lattes and a short supermarket trip, among other things. My hairdresser, whom I've known for nearly 15 years, is originally from coastal Mississippi, and I know his mother and siblings still live there, so I asked him first thing how they were, and surprisingly, they are all fine and had very little damage. Most of his family there, he says, are now in Biloxi and Gulfport, and amazingly had nothing worse than several trees down. Finally, something good from down there. He said he was even talking to his mother on the phone through all but the worst of the hurricane itself. That aside, I always enjoy a visit with him, so that was fun.
But generally, people are being morons around me lately. Let me count the ways:
Lines. Are people no longer capable of forming a line and standing on it (or in it, or in queue, depending on where you are)? I went to the pet stuff store yesterday, and while I was waiting with a giant jug of litter in my weak little arms, the guy in front of me was leaving huge space so no one could move up, and dancing from one side to another, as if he simply could not just stand behind the people in front of him. WTF? And this morning, I went to pick up a bagel (for R! Too many points for me!) and the guy in front of me here was just one of those jerks who needs to wait until two or three people in front of him move up before he'll make the effort to step up behind them. You know the type. Except this is a busy place, and the line behind him was stretching out the door. And then when it was my turn, the counterman called "Next?" and a guy two people behind me started to give his order. Notice other people, folks! As R says, it must be wonderful to be so secure in the knowledge that you as an individual are the only person in the world who counts.
Store people. So I'm on line (again) at the giant bed and bath store with all my new kitcheny things, and I move on up where the cashier is a college-type guy kid who does not make eye contact with me or say hello or anything. Okay, I don't need a new friend. But my last item had no price tag on it, and instead of saying something, he just took it in hand and disappeared. Literally, five minutes or more. I had seen him go off in the wrong direction, too. While I was waiting, a manager came by and asked if I was being helped; I said the cashier had gone to check a price, I guess. He too went off in the wrong direction "to help." The kid came back, said only "It's $12.99" and finished ringing it all up. Still, never looking at me. When he was all done and my bags were in the cart, I said "By the way, for future reference, the appropriate thing to say was 'Sorry that took so long.'" He seemed stunned, but I wasn't concerned. Sales folk ain't what they used to be, although I'm pleased to say I know both my girls do this well and properly, because I've watched them both do it when they didn't know I was there.
I went to Best Buy and was this close || to getting a tivo today, super sale. But I couldn't get anyone to help me. So there.
And the International Foods store, let me tell you. It's a very big store. There are flags draped all over, hanging down from the ceiling, so I went right over to what I assumed was an aisle for Australian food -- I know what the flag looks like -- but it turns out the flags are decorative and not informative. I scanned the aisles, and finally asked someone, a manager who was just leaving the store. "Do you know if you have vegemite?" Blank look. "It's from Australia. ... " he waves me over to one side of the store. Uh huh, I was just there. I went back to look more carefully. No dice. Finally, I saw someone stocking shelves and asked again. Blank. "They spread it on bread, like we use peanut butter, but it's not peanut butter. It's made from yeast." Blank. "It's really big in Australia." Finally, a light dawns. He sends me to a specific aisle where I find, on one side, peanut butters of the world, and on the other, Australian mustard.
Okay, is it me?
Hubs - He's not being unpleasant at all, I'd just like to know if he wants to adopt the fucking flies or what. Maybe he'd like to send them through college, get them a late-model used car. All I can say is that if he complains about everything in the kitchen being out of place, I'm going to smother him with a pillow tonight. He's a really deep sleeper, so I'm pretty sure I can do it.
R - Did, in fact, have the chutzpah to complain about everything in the kitchen being out of place. After she spent the last three days sitting on her ass the couch watching the O.C., enjoying the last few days of her youth before starting a real job on Monday. And going into the city today with friends. Listen, Missy, I'm not enjoying this, you know. Wash a cabinet.
[chutzpah - balls, cojones. Colossal nerve.]
Time to spray. At least my house doesn't smell like Raid and cat shit anymore.
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I'm watching True Hollywood Story
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Sweet Sorrow - 06.12.2007
So ... - 12.19.2006
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